Utopia
by Avaritia
Summary: KK. AU. The war is over and the world is in ruins, but there is one city, one beacon of hope rising out of the ashes. They call it Utopia but he was there at its birth.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not and never will belong to me. Alas.**

**AN:** I've never written this sort of story before… Please tell me what you think.

-

**Chapter One**

-

Twilight.

The edges of the world were hazing up, glowing gold as the shadows faded. Peach chased grey, followed by amber making way for the brilliant red glow of the rising sun. It slid over the horizon, staining the sea and spreading. The time it took for the light to hit the city could be measured in seconds; it lit up like a beacon on the crest of the mountain, a beacon of glass and steel.

Quietly he jumped down from his perch. It looked like everything it promised to be: Utopia.

Down here was a different story altogether; the road was little more than a dirt track, cracked lumps of asphalt littering the grey dust that settled on anything that stayed still long enough. There were people everywhere, so dirty they could be mistaken for lumps of asphalt themselves. Huddled in groups or scattered alone, there were hundreds of figures; those awake eyed him warily and those sleeping woke in alarm, sitting up and staring terrified at the red band of light, creeping simultaneously down the mountain to their west and across the sea to their east.

He picked his way along the path that led up to the city, smiling pleasantly at any of the refugees that allowed themselves to meet his eyes (there weren't many). The further he got the closer they became, their blankets and backpacks being replaced with small shanty style huts that leant against each other like aged friends. There was the gentle hum of voices that grew progressively louder as he neared what was known as the Walls.

As he paused a small hand tugged on his sleeve and he turned to see a little girl with wide green eyes offering a small portion of rice. He smiled and handed over a crumpled note in exchange for a steaming bowl.

He watched her silently as she bowed in thanks before dashing off into the crowd. He knew the money wasn't for her, only hoped that whoever she had to give it to would keep her safe in exchange for her labour. Child slaves were not unheard of in the shadow planes below the city, in another life he'd have tried to save them all.

He ate a few mouthfuls of the food she'd sold him before passing the bowl to an elderly woman huddled in the gutter. She rasped out her thanks with a toothless grin, blessing him in the name of more gods than he'd have imagined existed.

"You're going to the Walls."

The voice took him by surprise, he spun round, hand on the hilt of his sword.

There was no one there.

The voice snorted.

"I doubt she'd be thanking you if she knew the papers you had on you. She'd be clawing your eyes out trying to get them off of you, her and the rest of the planes."

He looked down. A pair of angry brown eyes looked back.

"You've got a passport and if you want to keep that quiet you're going to call me your son."

"Excuse me?" He finally found his voice. The boy stared back at him defiantly.

"I want in. And if I'm your son then they'll let me."

"What?"

"Not too bright are you?"

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"I'm not trying, I'm succeeding. You just need to get me past the gates, then you'll never see me again."

He hadn't seen such a confident child since the days before the war, when he'd been one himself. His feet firmly planted apart the boy stared him down, large brown eyes narrowed to slits.

Lowering his voice he squatted down in front of the boy, "How would you know what papers I'm carrying?"

The boy glared back, "I was sent here to steal them."

Quickly he concentrated on the inner pocket of his coat; they were still there, heavy paper weighing against the light material of his shirt.

"And who would you be stealing them for?"

The boy's eyes widened in alarm, "No one important. But you have to take me with you."

He'd tried to sound commanding but undertones of desperation weren't missed by the wanderer crouched before him. This was a boy unaccustomed to asking for help.

"If I get you past the Walls where will you go?" The man's voice was quiet.

"I'll find somewhere."

"And how will you do that. You look and smell like someone who's lived out here all your life. They won't trust you."

The boy bristled, "I don't smell any worse than you!"

He just looked, taking in the spiky hair and grubby cheeks of the child in front of him. He raised an eyebrow.

The boy's shoulders' slumped, "I- I. You're the first person to come through here with papers for years. My boss talked like he knew who you were, and like you could get anything you wanted once you got into the city. He said that if he got your papers he could be a king in Utopia. I just thought…. that maybe if they thought I was your son they'd… let me out of this place."

There was a long moment where the crouched wanderer stared at him with blazing amber eyes; the boy wasn't sure what he saw there but after a second or two the intensity lessened. "Did your boss tell you who he thought I was?"

The boy shook his head and the man's eyes softened back to purple.

"What is your name?"

The boy looked back up in surprise, "Yahiko."

"Do you have a family, Yahiko?"

"No."

"Have you always lived here?"

"For as long as I can remember."

He stood up, regarding the child thoughtfully. "And you really want to enter Utopia?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

The man smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, "Then you will follow me and tell the officers your name is Himura."

"Are you serious?" The boy's face lit up with a delighted smile.

"That I am."

-

Rising out of the dust and bodies was a massive sheet of rock; ranging from dull grey to obsidian black it climbed vertically upwards to where it plateaued, hundreds of meters above the plane. That great cliff was what set Utopia above the rest of the world; they called it the Walls. At its base there were rows upon rows of trenches, backed with barbed wire and marked with snipers placed at intervals along the cliff. Many people had died trying to cross that thin stretch of land, and those that had reached the other side found themselves faced with an impossible climb, one which no one had, nor ever would, complete. There was only one door in the Walls, and that was guarded by legions of gunmen; you only gained entry with a passport and passports were only issued within the city. Refugees flocked to it in their thousands, hundreds more appearing every night, it was the one beacon in a dying world, but no one gained entry.

Yahiko kept walking, steered by the iron grip the strange wanderer had on his shoulder. He was beginning to panic. No one got through that gate. For ten years he'd not heard of a single person making it across those trenches alive, though countless people tried it, and here he was, being pushed right up to the Walls by a stranger who might not even _have _a passport. It wouldn't be the first time his boss had been wrong, and it certainly _would_ be the first time someone not on the list got through that door. Only twenty people a year were allowed into Utopia officially, and they were chosen by lot from a list that every one in the sprawling camp had put their names on. Yahiko had been on the list since he'd been able to write, but he'd learnt to stop hoping that next year it would be him.

"Are you sure this will work?" He muttered tensely, as the man behind him smiled at a giant brute of a man crossing their path.

"It was your idea."

Yahiko felt himself break into a nervous sweat.

The crowd grew heavier as they neared the cliffs; hundreds of people pressed against chain-mesh fencing that separated the planes from the trenches. They were screaming like animals, begging for food, water, clothes. At a distance behind the fence uniformed guards paced with huge dogs at their heals, jeering out of range at the filthy mob before them.

"Please, sir, some charity, for my daughter, she is very sick."

Yahiko recoiled as a young woman clutched at the wanderer's arm, pointing at her pale baby, rapped in rags. The man's purple eyes shone sadly but he kept walking, pressing on through the crowd until Yahiko could no longer even see the path, only the legs and feet of many shouting bodies.

"Could you please point me to the gate?" he heard the man's voice above him, and after a quick response from another male he found himself being steered further into the mass of people.

Suddenly the legs cleared and he was pressing his fingers against the cool metal of the gate that led to the trenches. He'd seen it a number of times in his short lifetime but never close enough to touch, his eyes hungrily took in the paved road that began past the gate, leading past wire and trenches to a great iron door set in the rock: the gates of the Walls. He felt the air leave his lungs and his breathing quickened as the thought struck him that he might actually be going through, he might actually get to see the other side.

He'd grown up here an orphan, living off of the pity and charity of others, but no one reached their teens a free person on the planes. Almost two years ago he'd been recruited into one of the many gangs that made up the strange governing network of the camps. There were no official leaders or law enforcers down here because each and every person, on some level, still believed they'd make it to the city sooner or later – it was what they'd journeyed, some of them thousands of miles, in the hopes of - and even decades later they refused to give up that hope. There should have been anarchy, and by all accounts at first there had been, but soon enough people broke into groups and those groups fell out and for as long as Yahiko could remember gang scuffles were what shaped the order of the refugee camp.

He'd been used mostly as a pickpocket, lifting money or more often drugs (worth more than their weight in gold) from members of rival factions. He had few friends his own age, the gang he'd fallen into kept him pretty isolated out of paranoia that he'd heard too much. They fed him, clothed him and let him sleep under a roof with armed men about for protection, and at times he was grateful because without that he'd have died ten times over, but at the same time he couldn't help but wish himself somewhere else, up in the city his whole world dreamed of. When his boss had told him to follow this new wanderer he'd not told him it was passports he was lifting, that Yahiko had heard later as the boss boasted to follower over a stolen bottle of whiskey. It had been the perfect opportunity, happening so quickly he'd barely allowed himself to hope that it might work, but now here he was, standing at the gate to the Walls, waiting for it to open.

Eyes wide he turned to look at his wanderer, who was beckoning to a guard and reaching into his coat. Around him the entire crowd stilled.

You could hear a pin drop by the time the guard reached the fence, every step of his hobnailed boots echoing in the stunned silence behind Yahiko.

"You have passports." The guard said simply, taking the papers from him. A frown creased his features as his fingers brushed his ear and he began talking to someone else. "There's a man here, short, red hair, goes by the name of Himura. I'm holding his papers and they look genuine."

There was a pause as the guard stared at Himura.

"Yes, there's a scar on his cheek. And he's got a boy with him. Says it's his cousin."

There was another pause and the guard's eyes widened; he stepped away from Himura quickly, as though scared, before sinking into a low bow.

"The General will be here shortly," he said simply before barking orders at the surrounding guards.

The following minutes passed quickly for Yahiko, there was gunfire, but as far as he could tell no one was hit; when the gates opened to admit him and the wanderer there was a massive surge of bodies as others fought to follow them, the noise of their shouts was deafening but no one got through – it was as though there was an invisible force field separating them from the other side of the gate.

He found himself in a dingy office hidden in one of the trenches. Himura settled himself down in one of the chairs and waited politely, seeming perfectly happy in the awkward silence caused by the guards' apparent discomfort with his presence. Yahiko didn't dare speak in case they saw him for what he was, a shadow brat, a child from the planes.

Minutes passed and Yahiko was beginning to fidget when the sound of hobnail boots could be heard on the concrete outside. He held his breath as the sound moved closer. Himura stood up.

The door swung open to reveal a tall man with greying hair and an impressive military uniform, he was clearly the General but to Yahiko's great surprise he saluted to Himura as you would to a senior officer.

"We'd almost given up on you."

"General."

Stepping into the room the General smiled. "You've been away for a long time."

"That I have," Himura replied with a matching smile.

"If you'd just come with me," the older man asked, gesturing to a door on the opposite wall, "There are many things I need to discuss with you," at an afterthought he added, "The boy will stay here,"

Himura nodded, sending a small smile at Yahiko before following the General out of the room.

With a slight sigh Yahiko sunk back into his chair, watching the guards relax in the absence of the two other men. He wondered what Himura had done to gain respect from such an imposing man as the General. He wasn't much to look at, not very tall and dressed in patched, travel-frayed clothes. He carried a sword on his belt, admittedly strange in their current age of bombs and guns, but Yahiko had seen stranger weapons on the streets of the camp, and he had no doubt it would be effective if you ever needed to defend yourself quickly. His bland smile didn't suggest any hidden dangers, though perhaps that scar on his cheek was a relic from some violent past? He didn't seem old enough to have lived through the war, but Yahiko had been told that people aged faster in the shadow camps, perhaps his wanderings had led him to age slower?

A little bored of his fruitless musings he turned his head towards the closed inner-door, wondering if he'd be able to hear their conversation.

The muffled sound of the General's voice met his ears, "You've finally returned to join us."

Yahiko grinned, shifting to hear Himura's quieter response, "I'm not here to join anyone."

"But with your skills, your power-"

"I am but a wanderer, General. I go where my path takes me."

That didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for, the General impatiently started again, "But-"

"I switched my blade many years ago and when I swore I wouldn't kill another soul I meant it."

Yahiko's eyes widened, so he had killed. Interesting.

"Every day we must deal with new rebellions from the mob out there. We need you-"

Irritation began to seep through the polite tone of Himura's voice. "Perhaps if you fed them once in a while and let them live a little of the dream their parents _died_ for, they'd feel less rebellious."

The General sighed, "You've been away for a long time, Battousai."

There was a tense pause behind the door. Yahiko stopped breathing.

Battousai?

THE Battousai?

"You know I no longer use that name," came the terse response.

Himura Battosai?

The legendary manslayer who could dodge bullets, counter guns with a blade? The man who _carved_ Utopia out of international warfare with the bare edge of a sword?

Battousai the manslayer, the only reason the war ever ended?

"Himura Kenshin," he amended himself, "You've been away for a long time."

Suddenly it started to make sense, the fear on the guards' faces, the reverence of the General, the sword, the _scar on his cheek _– so similar to the scars men in Yahiko's gang would carve into their own cheeks as a sign of idolatry, loyalty, respect. This was the man behind the stories the old men in the camp would whisper after night fell. Hair dyed with the blood of his enemies, eyes like the fire army jets dropped on the old cities of the world. They said he killed without mercy, like a demon, and they said that in doing so he saved the world.

"That's your justification?"

"It was always going to be a problem, Himura, you knew that as well as I did. There's not room for all of them in Utopia. You can't smuggle them all in like that boy."

Yahiko's heart froze as he registered the General's reference to him.

Himura's response was tense and clipped, "The boy's under my protection now, General. And I'd appreciate it if you'd get him a passport. He will be staying with me until I find him a family."

"I'll do that for you, Himura, and I'll get you transport into the city. But please don't forget that we'll welcome you when you choose to return."

"I turned from that path a long time ago."

"I know that, but if you ever change your mind."

"I won't."

Before long there was the sound of chairs shifting and as their footsteps neared the door Yahiko schooled his face into something calmer than a mask of abject shock.

Battousai the manslayer ruffled his hair as he walked past. Yahiko barely managed not to gawk.

"When do we leave?" he heard the famed assassin ask.

"Immediately. Did you bring anything with you?"

Himura shook his head, turning to Yahiko, "Do you need anything?"

Eyes wide with barely disguised awe Yahiko mimicked his action. He had no real belongings of his own and as much as he'd love to tell the rest of his gang that not only was he entering Utopia, but doing so under Himura Battousai's protection, he was more eager just to leave the camp behind him. Grin spreading over his face he wondered what the planes looked like from the top of the Walls.

"What are you laughing at, boy?" questioned the General with a disapproving glance at the Battousai.

If possible Yahiko's grin widened, "I'm imagining how hard I'd have to spit to hit my old boss from the top of the Walls."

The older man's brow creased in surprise and behind him he heard the Battousai chuckle.

"An interesting companion you've found for yourself, Himura."

Stepping out into the sunlight Yahiko spared the wall of bodies behind the chain-mesh fence one final parting glance before trotting up to the massive iron doors after the two men. As the two men talked quietly about various people he didn't recognise the names of the Gate opened slowly and silently.

Heart racing he stepped into the clean white tunnel beyond them. It took a lot of self-control not to poke his tongue out over his shoulder; tonight he'd sleep in Utopia!

_-_

**AN:** End of Chapter 1! Next instalment will hopefully be along as soon as my next exam's over, so expect Kaoru soon. But yeah, anyone reading? Tell me what you think!

_**If you've read it, please review it!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not and never will belong to me, alas.**

**AN:** Repost of Ch2 with slightly fewer mistakes. I'm really am going to have to learn to proofread.

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**Chapter Two**

-

He'd been sitting curled up in the backseat of a strange vehicle (faster and quieter than any he'd seen before) when the wanderer turned from the passenger seat to talk to him. They'd been travelling for what felt like hours, smoothly powering through endless stretches of white tunnel. He was bored; he'd wanted to ask where they were going but couldn't help but worry that if he drew too much attention to himself they'd change their minds and take him back to the camp.

"We're currently in the network of tunnels inside the face of the Walls," the red-haired man answered his unspoken question. "We'll be stopping off at a few places before we get back above ground so you might want to get some sleep."

Yahiko nodded tiredly and bit back a yawn, more determined than ever not to nod off, who knew what kinds of people the legendary Battousai might find to talk to in a maze of underground tunnels?

-

When he opened his eyes he was surrounded by light. He blinked.

It wasn't the stark glow of the underground tunnels anymore, it was the sheen of sunlight on glass, tinged slightly golden by what he could only presume to be sunset. He'd heard stories about sunset. Apparently it was like dawn, just infinitely more beautiful. In his opinion it wouldn't take much to be more beautiful than dawn; its sick red glow terrified the people on the planes. Dawn meant that before long slavers would be coming, not camp slavers but rogue ones. Some people said they came from Utopia, but he didn't believe that. They took people away to the mines, he'd been lucky, not quite old and strong enough to interest them, but three young men from his gang had been taken already that year and they'd been under the protection of others, he could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for an unassociate, one without a gang for protection.

The planes didn't experience sunset, just after two o'clock in the afternoon the sun would dip behind Utopia and the Walls and a heavy, grey twilight would descend. He'd lived there forever and couldn't imagine anything different, but the older women would talk endlessly about romantic sunsets they'd shared with loved ones, even during the war. He'd taken it as myth, although part of him knew that if he ever made it up to Utopia he'd see one.

He twisted in his seat, plastering his face against the window of the vehicle.

"It _is_ beautiful," he whispered.

The light had an almost mystical quality as it clung to the landscape out of his window, it seemed to be coming from within the objects, lighting them up from the inside with the faint orange glow of fairy dust. He couldn't see the sky from where he was sitting, but imagined it would be glowing as gold as the windows he peered at.

The strange fast car thing he was sitting in sped along a simple black tarmac road flanked by great columns of glass; the buildings were even bigger than he'd imagined from the planes. He'd been told that in Utopia everybody used hover-cars and flew to work in the morning, he'd been dubious and it was with a small amount of satisfaction that he saw he was right. The vehicles he saw shooting past obeyed gravity as much as any of the rickety old trucks they had down below, they just shined a little brighter and went a hell of a lot quicker.

He'd seen pictures in books of the old cities of the world and he could see that Utopia had been made to emulate them; massively tall, many windowed skyscrapers were separated by crisscrossing roads and if he craned his neck he could see pavements with coloured shop fronts sitting several meters above the road, a safety precaution he could only presume.

"Ah, you're awake."

He turned with a start to see the man who'd bought him here smiling pleasantly. He'd got changed since Yahiko had last seen him, now wearing dark jeans and a purple shirt.

"Mr Himura," he choked, wanting to thank him but no knowing where to begin.

"Kenshin," the man corrected, "Just call me Kenshin."

He nodded, questions leaping up and begging to be asked, about the city, about the strange man's past, about the whole day he'd just slept through. He pushed them away for now, grinning as he glanced back at the window, "Thank you, Kenshin."

The man smiled again, "I found you some clothes," he said, nodding to a parcel Yahiko hadn't noticed on the seat next to him, "If you put them on for now I'll find us somewhere to get dinner, you must be hungry."

Yahiko nodded enthusiastically.

-

Pizza boxes littered the floor of the small apartment. It bought back memories; he hadn't had pizza in years.

The boy was sleeping in the only other room of the grotty bedsit the General had found for them. It stank of cigarette smoke and grease and Kenshin couldn't help but think that if he'd agreed to return to the army they'd be staying in far better accommodation; this place hadn't seen a clean lick of paint since the end of the war… Not that it particularly mattered though, either way Yahiko seemed floored by the 'luxury' of the grease stained mattress and Kenshin had slept on far worse than a moth-eaten sofa over the last few years.

He stuffed the pizza boxes into the rubbish chute, wincing at the sound of them jamming part way down, he'd have to deal with that in the morning. The light bulb flickered overhead and he sighed, it was going to be a long night.

Settling down on the sofa he pulled a paper wrapped parcel out of his coat, it contained details of Yahiko's entire life. A birth certificate from a Utopian hospital, dental records from the city's Guild of Dentists, hospital files stamped by the Hippocratic Order, reports from schools he'd never been to, results from exams he'd never taken. A registered orphan, it said he'd been in foster care since birth, Himura Kenshin was his current guardian but his time with him was due to expire within the month. His passport claimed him to be Japanese of origin, but that was a guess on their part from his appearance, he spoke the same rough English that everyone in the shadow camps learnt at one stage or another.

Through the closed door Kenshin tensed at the sound of a muffled snore from the boy. It took a few moments for his shoulders to relax. He'd been alone for so long now that it seemed strange to hear breathing from the next room and not feel the need to sleep with his sword at hand. He would all the same, but more out of habit than necessity. Flicking off the light he got changed, sliding between the sheets as he propped the aging katana against the armrest he'd be using as a pillow. Old habits died hard.

Staring at the blinking LED on the out-of-date entertainment system he thought over the past day. Part of him hated being back here in the city, the clean streets, the smiling faces. They knew nothing of the rest of the world and it unnerved him. Yahiko still seemed terrified that he would be kicked out at any moment so as of yet he wasn't anywhere close to talking about where he'd come from to city-dwellers, but at some point Kenshin was going to have to explain things to him and he didn't relish the prospect. Taking him shopping tomorrow was going to be difficult enough.

He wasn't entirely sure what had bought him back here. He rolled onto his back, watching the silent lights of traffic sweep across the crack running through the ceiling's plaster. Utopia was the finished product of a journey he hadn't yet completed, it was where he would make his home when he had finally atoned for the blood he'd spilled, and yet something had drawn him here. The same urgent something that caused him to couple his sword with a gun all those years before.

Something was brewing; he felt it as though it had never been away.

-

The sun was high, the city was buzzing and Kamiya Kaoru was having a very, _very_ bad day.

"I told you, I'll go and put something back!"

"You're wasting everyone's time! Look at the queue behind you! Do you want me to put it all through the till again, eh? And what if it still bounces? One last try while customers who can _actually_ afford what they put in their baskets walk out the door?"

"I told you I'm sorry!"

"Well, sorry doesn't pay for your groceries, Miss. You kids don't know how lucky you are. Utopia practically spoon feeds you so you don't think you have to bloody work to get what you want! When I was your age I lived off of the slice of bread and tin of baked beans my rationing chip would get me!"

And here it went again, the 'when I was your age' or 'back in the war' story. Whatever happened to 'the customer is always right'? She understood she was one of the lucky ones, she understood Utopia was a beautiful, wonderful place where dreams came true, she understood that this city was the calm after the storm, the ark after the flood, but still she couldn't quite grasp that this was the peak of human existence when she couldn't just put back the packet of biscuits that was upping her bill without the entire shop hearing that her card had been rejected because there wasn't enough money in her account.

The other customers where shifting restlessly behind her and she felt angry tears sting her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said again, voice almost cracking as she flicked through cards in her purse, trying to find one that might still have some money on it. Her fingers closed on the only one she didn't think she'd tried when a purple sleeve reached over her shoulder to place a handful of notes on the counter.

A soft male voice behind her muttered, "It's on me."

The woman over the counter huffed but nodded, taking the cash and tucking it into the till.

Kaoru stared at the money, breath hitching as she spun to level her furious gaze on the purple sleeved man, "I don't need your charity," she as good as hissed at him.

His eyes widened in surprise and he held up his hands, taking a step back. He opened his mouth to speak but a much younger voice beat him to it.

"Don't be stupid, _ugly_. He just wanted to get this queue moving, you were going to be there forever!"

Her eyes fell on a small boy at the man's hip; he glared defiantly at her, grubby cheeks looking out of place next to his white pressed shirt. "What did you call me?" she asked, all danger gone from her voice, she just sounded affronted.

"I called you ugly, stupid."

She blinked. No child got away with talking to elders like that! She looked back up at the man with him in search of an explanation-

"Your receipt, Miss," the woman at the till snapped. Jerked back to reality Kaoru took it from her.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the slip of paper. Looking at the man who'd paid for her she frowned slightly and said again, slightly louder, "Thank you."

He just nodded at her with a smile before stepping forward to pay for whatever was in his own basket.

Strange.

She waited uncertainly, it hadn't been much but she still didn't like the idea of walking off before at least arranging to pay him back. If she could just find Megumi she knew her friend would lend her the difference.

-

Kenshin wasn't surprised to find the young woman standing just a few paces behind him. She didn't strike him as the sort who would leave herself indebted to a stranger.

"You have to let me pay you back."

He almost smiled, "It can wait."

She shook her head adamantly, "No it can't."

She was as stubborn as she looked, standing feet apart with a bright glint in her eyes. That was confidence you'd only find in Utopia. He started walking, checking that Yahiko was following. "Then what do you propose?"

"I've got a friend at the hospital, if you come with me I can get her to pay you back."

She seemed utterly genuine. He turned to Yahiko; the boy's eyes had lit up at the mention of the hospital, yet another new idea for him to marvel over. "We'll come," he told her and she smiled slightly, a nice smile. It made him smile back.

They walked in silence for while, Kenshin placing a hand on Yahiko's shoulder as the boy slowed to stare at a street entertainer with an electric guitar. Cars shot by on the road just below them on the left and the crowds began to thin as they left the main shopping area of the Highstreet. He hadn't been in Utopia since the end of the war, when it had been little more than an army base and research centre at the edge of the largest crater on the planet. He trusted the young woman knew where she was going, he might have been able to navigate the barren remains of Eurasia and the Americas alone, but in a thriving city with people and buildings at every corner he was quite lost. He raised an eyebrow at Yahiko as the boy peered in confusion at a simple drainpipe; he was perfectly comfortable in the amiable silence they had settled into but beside him the girl was beginning to fidget.

"So-" she blurted out suddenly. "Where are you two from?"

Her expression was almost challenging as she turned to him, like she was daring him not to answer, he grinned. "We're staying with a friend of mine, up near Tower Green," he was avoiding her actual question and wondered if she'd notice.

She did.

"Where do you stay normally?"

"Nosy much, ugly?"

Her eyes flashed as Yahiko made another valuable contribution to the conversation. He schooled his face calm as she clenched her fists.

"Where did you get him from?" she demanded, "He talks like he just flopped out of the gutter!"

"He's my cousin," he replied, determined not to allow his amusement to enter his voice.

"Maybe you should teach your cousin some manners!"

That time he did laugh; Yahiko's face was priceless.

He turned back to look at her and found her staring at him with an odd expression on her face. He smiled questioningly and she blushed, looking down.

And then she stopped dead. When he turned back to look at her he found her eyes clamped on the sword partially hidden under his coat.

There was a slight pause.

"You're carrying a sword," she whispered. She turned her eyes to his face; they were suddenly very wide and very blue.

He cleared his throat nervously, he should have been more careful hiding it…

Her face flickered between terrified and livid. He opened his mouth to offer an explanation when suddenly she had a gun levelled at his chest.

He blinked.

_Snap._

The sound echoed in his ears, registering only a moment before he felt a strange numbness start to spread under his ribs. He looked down as blood seeped through his shirt. A distant part of his brain was noting that it hurt.

"You shot me."

His own voice sounded dull, like he was speaking through a wall of water. He staggered strangely, seeing Yahiko jump in front of him, screaming at the girl, her eyes were still on him, wide but not afraid, wide and somehow quiet, somehow blue – like the ocean he'd left behind. His vision was swimming and she was all he could see.

"Battousai," she hissed, venom and anger and bitter raging hurt gave the word strength, it was almost like she'd shot him again. He deserved that hate; he felt it to his very bones. Black spots were spreading through his vision (through his soul) and he was trembling with the effort to stay standing. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he'd repented and would go on repenting, he wanted to show her that the sword was useless, that he'd never kill again. He didn't remember her and hated himself for it, how many other daughters were out there, hating Battousai, hating him? The blackness spread and he thought he was swimming in ink, he couldn't breathe, his eyes were wide but he couldn't see. He fell.

-

Kaoru was gasping for air, shaking both with excess adrenaline and the force of the gun's recoil.

There'd been recognition on his face. It was him. After months and months of searching she'd finally found him: Battousai.

The authorities wouldn't listen, passing it off as an urban legend, there were no such things as rogue samurais in Utopia, they'd said, and yet here he was, guilt practically scrawled over his features with a sword at his waist.

The boy who'd been with him was crying now, throwing punches at her with angry fists. He was yelling furiously that she had no right and didn't know who he was, but she knew he was wrong. She had every right. This man had taken everything from her! Her father's cremated body sat in some dusty urn in the basement of her crumbling home because of him.

"He built this city!" the boy was yelling, "He killed because he had to! You don't even know him! We only got here yesterday!"

Her thoughts snapped to attention.

"What?" she demanded, grabbing the angry boy by the shoulders.

"He ended the war! He made Utopia possible and you _killed_ him!"

"No, after that." Her voice was urgent, "You know him? How long have you been with him?"

The boy froze. "He's been travelling for ten years," he said warily, "He only got back into the city yesterday."

"No," her worry dispersed; clearly the boy had been tricked by him too. "No he killed my father a year ago and had been threatening me for the last few _months_." She paused then, an amused half smile tracing her features, "Besides, only just got back to the city? From where? Don't you go to school? There's nothing left but dust and water beyond Utopia, he'd have died the moment he left the force field."

The boy was looking at her in complete confusion.

She turned back to the body lying still on the ground. She wouldn't be able to move him on her own.

"Sanosuke," she said levelly, wincing as white noise crackled before a bleep told her he was there, "Sano? I'm on the corner of Pavilion Highstreet. I think I found him," she bit her lip, listening to the man's excited exclamation in her ear, "Could you pick us up? I need to get him back to the dojo."

Letting out a small sigh she tucked her dart gun back into her belt underneath her jacket.

And to think, he had the nerve to try and pay for her groceries!

-

_**If you've read it please review it!**_


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